


Victor's Choice

by departmentofhomelandobscurity



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Copious Descriptions of Food, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gale and madge in the games, Gen, Quarter Quell, Rebellions, Romance, Slow Burn, over priced strawberries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 13:16:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/departmentofhomelandobscurity/pseuds/departmentofhomelandobscurity
Summary: *As a reminder that the Districts created the rebellion by following their corrupt leaders, each tribute for the Third Quarter Quell will be chosen by the Victors of that District.*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fist attempt at creative writing in years (probably since high school), so I gladly welcome constructive criticism. Enjoy :)

_As a reminder that the Districts created the rebellion by following their corrupt leaders, each tribute for the Third Quarter Quell will be chosen by the Victors of that District._

 

_Everyone is eligible for the Reaping. There can be no volunteers. The Victor’s choice is final._

- 

The woods were quiet, but alive. A light spring breeze rustled the trees as Gale Hawthorne strolled along a familiar path, checking snares. Small animals scurried around the ground and birds drifted lazily through the air. He could hear light footsteps to his right and the rustling of sticks and leaves near the ground. Gale turned and walked up to his hunting partner as she crouched next to a strawberry bush.

 

“That doesn’t look like squirrel, Catnip,” he smirked. A small smile tugged at her lips, but she continued picking the ripe berries.

 

“You know as well as I do that the Mayor will give us 10 for a basket of strawberries. That’s twice as much a anyone will give us for a squirrel,” she said. “Besides, I have two already.”

 

“Fine, I guess we should capitalize while we can,” Gale grinned, as Katniss stood up. “But it is getting late, we need to get back before too many people are out.”

 

She nodded and the two turned back towards the direction of the fence. They walked through the trees in amicable silence for a while. Occasionally a rabbit or a bird would cross their path, and he’d pretend to prepare to shoot it. Katniss would roll her eyes and grin. She was small and slight, like most people from the Seam. She almost always wore her dark brown hair in a practical braid and she had the same olive complexion and angular face that he and his siblings had. Her small stature made her light footed and a perfect hunting partner. Gale loved this. Sundays were his only day away from the darkness and danger of the mines; they were his only day where he felt even remotely free. The mines seemed to loom over him constantly now, like a dark cloud of coal dust. But that cloud didn’t reach into the woods.

 

“What was it like?” Katniss asked suddenly. Gale stopped walking.

 

“What’s what like?”

 

Katniss frowned a little. “What was it like to not be in the Reaping anymore?”

 

“The same,” he replied. She raised an eyebrow. “But instead of worrying that I’d be picked, I just worried about Rory and Vick. Not that it matters today.”

 

She nodded in agreement, clearly thinking of Prim and herself. “I guess... I just hoped there’d be some kind of freedom. Some kind of assurance and relief.”

 

Gale let out a bitter laugh. “You know what District 12’s motto should be? You can die in the Games or die in the mines. Those are the only choices we get here. This isn’t a life, Catnip. It’s... it’s bullshit. It’s slavery to the Capitol. They live their frivolous, stupid lives while we work to death and send kids off to die every year for their entertainment. It’s absolutely sick”

 

“You forgot that we can also die of starvation,” she pointed out dryly.

 

Gale sighed. The fence was in sight now. Katniss slipped ahead of him and through the gap between the barbed wire and ground. She popped up on the other side and brushed herself off quickly as Gale followed. There weren’t many Peacekeepers out at this hour of the morning, although the Seam was starting to show some signs of life. From across the meadow Gale could see smoke rising from chimneys as people started their Sunday.

 

He and Katniss made their way along the fence on the outskirts of the Seam. Though essentially all of District 12 knew about their illegal source of income, it still wasn’t the best idea to walk through town with bags full of poached animals. It was much better to quickly make their way to the town square and the Mayor’s House, before ending their rounds at the Hob. As they climbed the hill to the Town, Katniss started digging around in her bag for a squirrel. Gale raised his eyebrows as she pulled out an already skinned squirrel.

 

“Trying to earn an extra tip?” he quipped.

 

Katniss, to his surprise, started to turn red. As they rounded the corner and walked along the small square surrounded by run down, identical houses, she walked ahead of him again. She was knocking on the backdoor door to the bakery before Gale was even on the stoop. Peeta Mellark opened the door and grinned at them. Like many people in District 12, he was about a head shorter than Gale, with straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He gave off an air of kindness and struck Gale as soft hearted, unused to the hardships of the Seam.

 

“More squirrels?” He said brightly, pointing towards the small carcass in Katniss’ hands. It was a pretty lousy catch, if Gale was being honest. But Peeta pulled out the standard fare of 5 gold coins before he or Katniss could start to argue a price.

 

“Is your dad feeling any better?” Katniss inquired.

 

Peeta gave a noncommittal shrug and sighed. “We’ll see. Your mom’s remedies are helping with the pain, but there’s only so much they can do.”

 

Despite his general dislike of Townies, Gale was sad to hear that Mr. Mellark’s strange ailment was getting worse. He had been a fair trader; consistent and kind. Much different than his wife, who turned them away with the threat of Peacekeepers any time he and Katniss approached the bakery.

 

“Wait here, just a second,” Peeta broke the silence and walked back into the kitchen. He returned with two loaves of bread, slightly burnt and smaller than most of the nearly identical loaves in the bakery. He offered them to Katniss and Gale. “The yeast didn’t rise quite right, so we can’t sell them. They’re still good, though!”

 

Gale frowned slightly. “How much-”

 

“Nothing! It’s on the house,” Peeta interrupted.

 

Katniss opened her mouth to protest, but Peeta waved his hand.

 

“I’m serious. It’s Reaping Day and... Well, you never know...” He trailed off, “Seriously, take them.”

 

Gale nodded, as he placed the bread in his bag.

 

“Good luck today,” Katniss said. Not that a wealthy townie would need it, on most occasions. Mellark probably only had his mandatory 7 slips in the Reaping bowl. But this year was different.

 

“You two as well,” Peeta replied.

 

“Here’s hoping none of us piss Haymitch Abernathy off in the next couple of hours,” Gale joked.

 

Peeta grinned politely, while Katniss just frowned a bit. Gale nodded at Peeta again as he and Katniss walked through the back alley behind the bakery in the general direction of the Mayor’s house. Even though the buildings in town were nicer than the dilapidated 4 or 5 room shacks most Seam families lived in, their rundown state created an air of sadness, even in the wealthiest area of District 12. Most of the families in town lived in small apartments above their business, or in houses behind them. The only house that wasn’t run down was Mayor Undersee’s. It was nowhere near as large and intimidating as the mansions in Victor’s Village, but the white two story house stood out in District 12. It was pristine, coal dust scrubbed from the siding, with a well maintained garden in the front and large trees. Katniss had been inside once or twice and told Gale about the hot water straight from the tap and three bathrooms.

 

Katniss knocked on the back door and Madge Undersee opened it. She was in the same dress that she wore to the Reaping the year before. It was white, with pink lace at the bottom that matched the ribbon in her hair. Her outfit was nicer than the rented dresses that most Seam girls wore to get married. But with her curly blonde hair and big blue eyes, no one would ever mistake her for a Seam girl. She was as Town as they came; hell she was practically the Capitol. But she and her father paid far more than market value for strawberries, so Gale never said anything too mean.

 

“Hello Madge,” Katniss greeted. Madge smiled at Katniss and nodded in Gale’s general direction. Gale glowered at her, but she didn’t seem to notice.

 

“Katniss! Same as usual for the strawberries?” She asked. Katniss nodded.

 

Madge took the coins of out her pocket and handed them to Katniss. Finally, she acknowledged Gale’s presence with a slight nod.

 

“Nice dress,” he said. “Is it the same as last year’s?”

 

Madge looked surprised. “I didn’t realize you’d care, Hawthorne.”

 

Gale felt his cheeks turn red and hoped his dark coloring hid the traitorous blush. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d spent his fair share of time looking at Madge Undersee. Honestly, more than a couple of his peers had. She was half a head taller than Katniss and had small curves that girls in the Seam (and most girls in town, for that matter) lacked. The extra food she’d always had access to certainly helped with her appearance and lack of entries into the Reaping. It kept her cheeks round, lips plump, and hair shiny.

 

“I didn’t realize your family was slumming it now, Undersee,” Gale replied. Madge frowned, her light eyebrows working together and round mouth pressing into a hard, thin line.

 

“Well you said I looked so nice last year that I didn’t see any reason to change it up,” Madge said frostily, as she turned back to Katniss.

 

“Good luck today,” she said, as she gave Katniss a quick hug. Katniss looked a little surprised, but squeezed back. Madge turned to Gale. “May the odds be ever in your favor,” she said to Gale, cocking her eyebrow. Gale grunted in response, but kept any harsher words to himself.

 

After Katniss echoed her goodbyes, they headed off to the Hob.

-

More people were milling about now in the morning before the Reaping. There was a sense of camaraderie among people on this day. Everyone seemed a little closer, almost everyone was a little more understanding.

 

Almost everyone.

 

Tension hung in the air around the old warehouse: everyone was on edge as Haymitch Abernathy ambled along the path from Victor’s Village, headed towards the Hob for a bottle of white liquor. Katniss stilled next to Gale. He also wanted to avoid contact with Haymitch today. Occasionally he’d buy game off of them, but he typically slammed the door in their faces or yelled at them to get lost. Gale had been avoiding him since the announcement of the Quarter Quell and he had a feeling most others in District 12 were doing the same.

 

Quietly, Gale and Katniss walked behind Haymitch and slipped into the Hob behind him. He went straight to Ripper, who greeted him with a bottle of something that smelled like gasoline. Gale snorted as Ripper told him it was on the house. Of course it was, in three hours Haymitch would decide if any of them lived or died. Gale felt Katniss freeze next to him, petrified staring ahead. Haymitch was glaring right at them.

 

“What was that, boy?” he barked. “You see something funny?”

 

Katniss shook her head, but Gale just glared back at Haymitch.

 

“I’m not sure I’d call an old man drinking himself to death funny,” Gale retorted, before he could think about the consequences of his idiotic outburst. Haymitch’s eyes narrowed. Gale felt Katniss pull on his arm.

 

“Gale, let’s go,” she muttered.

 

Gale turned around and maneuvered his way through the Hob towards Rooba and Greasy Sae behind Katniss. The realisation of what he had just done started to spin in his brain. Haymitch Abernathy, miserable drunk that he was, controlled the Reaping this year. He could choose anyone he wanted to: old enemies, uncared for orphans, elderly shut ins, or anyone who pissed him off. Which Gale had just done.

 

“I’m sure he’s already decided who he’s going to pick,” he said quietly. Katniss didn’t respond or offer any words of comfort. Usually her silence ment agreement, but this time he could feel the frustration and worry radiating off of her.

 

Quickly and quietly they made their trades. Darius stood at Greasy Sae’s booth, laughing with another Peacekeeper. Usually Gale would greet him, but now he wanted to get home as quickly as possible.

 

He and Katniss walked back towards the Seam together. About a half mile down the main road, they came to her cross street. She turned to him, an unreadable emotion in her gray eyes.

 

“Good luck today,” she said.

 

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” Gale smirked a bit. Effie Trinket’s words hung in the air between them until Katniss turned and walked towards her home. Gale continued down the road for another quarter mile until he reached the road labeled 2000. He could hear Posy and Rory’s loud voices as he approached the rundown shack. He opened the door and stepped into the small common area. His mom hovered over the stove in the back of the room, while Rory and Posy sat at the table, talking loudly.

 

“All I’m saying is that our odds are good. I bet Haymitch picks some old guy he’s had beef with or some girl who dumped him decades ago,” Rory explained to his mother. Hazelle didn’t look as certain, but didn’t argue with him. Posy giggled at Rory.

 

“Gale!” she squealed, when she saw him enter the house. He planted a kiss on her head, dropped his bag on the table, and walked into the back bedroom that he, Rory, and Vick shared.

 

“Gale, please get your brother out of bed,” his mother called.

 

Vick was curled up on the bottom bunk of the bed he and Rory shared. Gale sat on the edge of his single bed and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. Vick rolled over, his eyes red and swollen from crying.

 

“I don’t want to do this,” Vick whispered, looking up at Gale.

 

Gale sighed. “I don’t want to do this either,” he agreed. “But we have to. We don’t have another choice.”

 

Vick slowly got out of bed as Gale changed into his Reaping outfit: one of his dad’s old shirts, patched in places and worn, a pair of dark pants, and the only belt he owned. He shaved and combed his hair in their only bathroom before joining his family for breakfast.

-

The square was stiflingly hot and humid. Even in the Town, built almost entirely of cement, mosquitos and flies were everywhere, creating a constant hum. People shuffled around the square in organized chaos. Unlike the Reapings of previous years, where parents and families ineligible for the Reaping would gather along the sides of the square and children would be organized according to age and sex, everyone was corralled into the center of the square in front of the stage. Gale stood on the young men’s side with other miners, including Thom. Rory and Vick had been moved towards the front by Peacekeepers. He shifted on his feet to see if he could catch a glimpse of his mom or Posy or Katniss.

 

“Looking for anyone in particular, Gale?” Thom smirked.

 

Gale rolled his eyes.

 

“Yes, I go to Reapings to get laid Thom,” Gale quipped.

 

Thom rolled his eyes.

 

A hush fell over the murmuring crowd as Effie Trinket and Mayor Undersee walked on stage. Mayor Undersee was tall, with thinning blonde hair. He had the same strained expression on his face that he had every year, just like Effie had the same maniac smile plastered across her pale face. The only thing that was different was her wig, a teal piece with curly stands flying everywhere. It matched her suit. Haymitch was nowhere to be seen. Mayor Undersee began his Capitol devised spiel about the Dark Days, the Rebellion, and the retribution that the Districts must pay to the merciful rulers in the Capitol. Gale tuned out most of the propaganda infused speech, like he did almost every year. Listening to it only enraged him.

 

Just as Mayor Undersee was beginning to explain the previous Quarter Quells, there was a small comotion off to the side of the stage. Two Peacekeepers were dragging Haymitch Abernathy into the square. His graying black hair was unkempt and his button down shit was hanging over his dirty slacks, stained with vomit and blood. He clearly hadn’t bothered to shave or bathe in the time between the Reaping and his visit to the Hob that morning. The Peacekeepers shoved him up the wooden steps and onto the stage, where he stumbled into Mayor Undersee.

 

“Ah, Mr. Abernathy... I’m sure Ms. Trinket can help you to your seat?” Mayor Undersee said as he caught Haymitch’s arm. Effie stood and offered her assistance as Haymitch hiccupped confusedly.

 

“As I was explaining, on the 25th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that who would represent it. On the 50th anniversary, as a reminder that for every Capitol citizen who died, two rebels died, every district sent twice as many tributes,” he paused and glanced at Haymitch. An unreadable expression crossed over his lined face. “And today, for the 75th anniversary, as a reminder that the Districts created the rebellion by following their corrupt leaders, each tribute will be chosen by the Victors of that District. Everyone is eligible for the Reaping. There can be no volunteers. The Victor’s choice is final.”

 

Mayor Undersee’s words hung over the square. Even though District 12 hadn’t had a volunteer in Gale’s lifetime, there was a new certainty to the event. If Haymitch picked you, there was no hope. You were going to the Hunger Games and coming back in a body bag.

 

Effie Trinket walked to the podium. “Happy Hunger Games!” she said, in her maniacally cheerful voice and ridiculous accent. “Today’s Reaping will be a little different, as Mr. Abernathy will be allowed to walk among you all to choose our tributes! May the odds be ever in your favor!”

 

Haymitch wobbled towards the edge of the stage and stared out into the crowd. His eyes scanned the rows of thousands of men, women, and children who stood before him. Mayor Undersee looked apprehensive, likely afraid that District 12’s only living victor would fall off the small stage to his death before he picked anyone. Effie trinket continued smiling and stepped towards Haymitch, pointing him in the direction of the stairs he had just been shoved up.

 

“It’s time to choose, Haymitch!” She chirped.

 

“I know, woman! Give me time to think,” Haymitch snapped and waved off her guiding hands.

 

Miraculously he made it off the stage in one piece with no broken bones or head injuries, unlike last year when he face planted in front of the stage. As he approached the crowd, people started to move apprehensively. He made his way through rows and rows of young children, passing over Rory and Vick by a few feet. He wandered back into the crowd of young miners and stopped, turning to look at the faces of his former peers. Had Haymitch not been reaped 25 years ago, he would have stood among them, provided he didn’t die in a mining accident like so many others had.

 

“You know, Haymitch, we usually selected the ladies first!” Effie shouted from the stage.

 

Haymitch gave a non committal grunt as he continued walking through the crowd. Eventually he found who he was looking for and grabbed ahold of the nearly threadbare shirt of Gale Hawthorne.

 

Gale froze, as Haymitch glared directly into his face. They’d never stood this close before. He could smell the booze on his breath, see every line in his aging face, the tangles in his straight black hair. He could see the recognition in Haymitch’s eyes, but there was no vindictiveness. Gale thought he saw regret flash across his face, but it was replaced by a determined look before he could be certain.

 

“This one. Him. It’s Hawthorne, isn’t it?”

 

Gale couldn’t move. He couldn’t even think.

 

“What’s your name, dear?” Effie called from the stage.

 

Gale didn’t answer. He just stared at Haymitch. A Peacekeeper pushed his way through the crowd and placed a hand on his shoulder. Realization started to set in. Haymitch had picked him. He was going to The Hunger Games. The Peacekeeper started to walk Gale through the silent crowd up to the stage. He caught a glimpse of Vick crying and it took all of his self control not to push his way through the crowd and wrap his arms around his youngest brother. Just a few hours ago, he’s reassured him that nothing bad would happen today. They’d be safe to starve in District 12.

 

“Yes, yes I believe that is Gale Hawthorne, Effie,” Mayor Undersee confirmed as he caught sight of Gale walking up the steps of the stage. His voice sounded coarse and pained. Gale wondered if it was because he recognized him from their years of strawberry dealings. The look of sad recognition in his eyes confirmed his suspicions.

 

“Wonderful, we have our male tribute! Now for the ladies, Haymitch,” Effie instructed.

 

Gale glared off the stage into the crowd. He needed to look determined, tough, emotionless. Now was not the time for fear. Haymitch was wandering his way through a gaggle of high school aged girls from the Seam. _Oh God_ , Gale realized, _he’s going to pick Katniss_. And then he stopped. There were a group of blonde heads in the crowd that grabbed Haymitch’s attention.

 

“May...” he murmured to himself, clearly unaware that he was attached to a microphone. He lunged and grabbed the girl. The Peacekeepers quickly pulled Haymitch away from her and whisked them both through the crowd and up towards the stage. A fervent murmur started among the crowd and when Gale got a good look at her he quickly realized why.

 

The trembling girl who climbed the stage to stand next to Gale was Madge Undersee.

-


	2. Chapter 2

For the only time in his career, Mayor Undersee seemed flustered. His seventeen year old daughter, his only child, his pride and joy was standing on stage as a tribute for the Hunger Games. Madge, for her part, had a determined expression on her face. Her jaw was set and lips were pursed together tightly, she clutched her hands tightly at her sides as she ascended the rickety stairs. She was clenching her fists so hard that her knuckles were turning white. It was the only thing that gave away how terrified she truly was.

 

“Well now, what’s your name dear?” Effie Trinket trilled as she led Magde across the stage to where Gale stood. 

 

“Madeline...” whispered Mayor Undersee, as he walked forward towards his daughter.

 

Madge touched his arm, silencing him. He couldn’t afford any emotional outburst. Neither could she, for that matter. Now was the time to be strong. She turned to Effie and the crowd, “my name is Madeline Undersee.”

 

Effie gasped. “Well, Mayor Undersee, you must be so proud to have your daughter up here, representing District 12 as a tribute in such an--”

 

“No, no! You don’t understand you fuckers! I need her to get back down here,” Haymitch shouted from the crowd. 

 

Madge felt the eyes of the crowd leave her, as Haymitch struggled with the Peacekeepers. He was standing in front of the stage, trying to explain something to Darius. Clearly his mic had been cut as soon as he’d grabbed Madge out of the crowd. No one had heard the strange things he’d muttered under his breath as he grabbed Madge; things about a woman named May, who she could only assume was her aunt, Maysilee Donner. Of course she’d heard stories of her from her dad and, on good days, her mother. Kind and clever and killed in the 50th Hunger Games before she could grow into any of her best qualities. 

 

Another Peacekeeper descended the rickety stairs and helped remove Haymitch from the square, as he continued protesting. Effie cleared her throat. “Well, isn’t this an exciting Reaping. The Mayor’s daughter will be representing her very own district alongside this young man. Let’s hear a round of applause for our two tributes!”

 

A few polite claps rippled through the crowd.

 

“Now tributes, shake hands!” Effie said cheerfully.

 

Madge looked up at Gale. He was nearly a head taller than her, and she was rather tall for a girl in District 12. He had the same angry, brooding expression on his angular face that he always wore. Despite his thin, downturned mouth and thick, furrowed eyebrows, he was always annoyingly handsome. His grey eyes met her blue ones. There was a determined emotion behind his gaze. She hoped her own eyes mirrored his. 

 

She stuck her hand out and he caught it, still keeping his eyes locked on hers. His hands were calloused and rough, an outward sign of the hard labor he’d done his entire life.  _ He’d be at an advantage in the arena _ , she thought.  _ He knew what it meant to go hungry, to fight for mere survival. _ Her own hands must have felt soft, like butter or satin. But she gave him a firm handshake, just like her father had taught her to do. She thought she saw a hint of surprise in Gale’s face, almost like he was impressed that she wasn’t crying on stage. 

 

Gale dropped her hand like it was a on fire and turned his gaze back towards the crowd. Madge imagined he was looking for his family or Katniss. The only family she needed to look for was a yard to her left. Mayor Undersee cleared his throat and began to read from the Treaty of Treason. He had composed himself enough to make it through the rest of the ceremony, but Madge could see the slight quiver in his hands, hear the tremble in his voice. He just had to make it through the next couple of minutes and then it would be over. They’d be sent off to the Justice Building to say their last goodbyes... and that would be it. Her father, David Undersee, would be alone in the world, aside from his ailing wife. Madge would be off to the Capitol, getting gussied up to be sacrificed. 

 

She clenched her teeth tighter. Now was not the time to think of something that threatened to bring her to tears. She was on national television, the other tributes and sponsors were watching her every move.

 

The anthem of Panem started to play over the loudspeakers in the square. A group of Peacekeepers corralled her and Gale off stage towards the Justice Building. She snuck a glance in his direction and was surprised to see him look away quickly, turning slightly pink despite his darker coloring. He’d been looking at her pin, she realized. It caught in the hazy summer sunlight, like a spark from a fire.

 

* * *

The small, windowless room the Peacekeepers led Madge into was decorated with the same government issued furniture her family’s parlor was, although this looked newer, less used.  _ It was probably only used once a year _ , she realized. 

 

She tentatively sat on the striped couch, just as her father burst through the door. She stood and he immediately embraced her. She couldn’t contain it anymore, all of the pent up emotions she felt spilled out of her as she hugged her dad. It wasn’t fair. It was never fair, even when the tributes were starving, unwanted children from the Seam with dead parents and apathetic caretakers. It wasn’t fair today. Why had Haymitch picked her? He’d never bothered to spend any time with her, save for government ordered events. Had he mistaken her for Maysilee, in his perpetually intoxicated state?

 

She shook as she cried and realized that her dad, her wonderful, loving father, was crying too. The man who would move mountains for his daughter, who had protected her from so much of the endemic poverty in District 12, who had encouraged her mind and soul for her entire life, was about to lose her. Madge tried to compose herself and stepped out of her dad’s embrace, taking his hands in hers. They were softer, with callouses only from his writing and gardening. His eyes were red behind his small square glasses. 

 

“Daddy...” she tried to say something, anything to encourage him, to give him hope. But the words didn’t come. She knew and she could see in his face that he knew too: there was no way she could win this. But she had to be strong, she had to be brave for her dad’s sake.

 

“I... I am not going to just give up. I will not just roll over and... and...” she couldn’t say  _ that _ word. The word that was on both of their minds. Saying it would just be inviting it into the last little piece of comfort that they would ever have together. 

 

“Listen to me, Madeline: I will talk to Haymitch. I’ll make him do everything for you, everything he possibly can. This should not have happened to you,” he said firmly. 

 

Madge shook her head, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes again. 

 

“And it should have happened to Gale? Dad he has a family who depends on him for everything, so many of those other kids had parents and siblings who loved them too,” she cried.

 

Her father frowned. “Listen, Madeline, there are things that you don’t understand, things you can’t know that are at work here. Please, just let Haymitch help you,” he begged. 

 

“I’m not going to let you and Haymitch try to use whatever miniscule amount of political power District 12 still has to throw the Games for me,” she snapped. He dad looked shocked and opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “You raised me better than that, daddy. You didn’t raise me to be a quitter or a cheater and I don’t intend to change that now,” her voice wavered slightly, and she sucked in a breath. “I’m going to do everything I can to come home to you and to mother, but I’m not going to lose myself.”

 

Her dad nodded. 

 

“Of course you’re not, Madeline. You’re going to do your best and...” he trails off.

 

Even her own father knows that she’s not coming home. The man who raised her can’t even bring himself to lie about her miniscule chances at winning. Madge takes a deep breath to continue to reassure him when a Peacekeeper knocks at the door.

 

“Time’s almost up,” he shouts through the door.

 

“I love you,” she says softly. She wraps her arms around her father one last time.

 

“I love you so much, Madeline,” her dad murmurs into her hair. “Your mother and I have had no greater joy than being your parents. And you’re right, I didn’t raise a cheater and I didn’t raise a quitter.”

 

The Peacekeeper walks in to escort her dad out. Madge feels much smaller as soon as his arms are no longer around her.

 

“You’ll do us proud,” he calls as he leaves the room. 

 

The door clicks shut behind them. Madge sits on the couch again. She’s not expecting anyone else to visit her today; she doesn’t any other family, close friends, or a boyfriend to send her off. Her mother is ill and at home in bed, an exception the mandatory attendance for Reapings. She doesn’t hold out any hope that Katniss will visit. She and Gale are attached at the hip, where as they’re two lonely girls who eat together, and now one of them has to die. Madge doesn’t blame Katniss for picking Gale over her. 

 

She’s prepared to sit for another half an hour or so when the door opens and Peeta Mellark walks in carrying a small box, Delly Cartwright trailing behind him. Peeta smiles sheepishly at her. Delly looks like she’s about to burst into tears again.

 

“It’s been a minute,” he says as he walks over and embraces Madge. Delly follows and wraps herself around Madge’s back. She squeezes back, happy and somewhat relieved to see her old friends. 

 

Every child in Town had played together, it seemed. They all lived close enough for it to be convenient and, since there weren’t too many merchant class families in District 12, they all got to know each other fairly well as children. Of course, it wasn’t long before school and Seam kids and politics they didn’t understand worked their way in between friendships. Delly was so frustratingly nice that she somehow managed to be friends with everyone. Madge really should have anticipated her visit. Delly had always made an effort to be friendly with her, despite Madge’s somewhat self prescribed social quarantine. Peeta had always been nice and outgoing and popular among the boys and girls of their class. Madge had been much shier and reserved and more quietly aware of her outsider status, even among the wealthiest and most well connected families of District 12. They’d grown apart, their social interactions limited to school projects and small talk.

 

“I brought you a box of cookies,” he said. She smiled as she took the box, despite her overwhelming feelings of despair and hopelessness. 

 

“I know it won’t really do much to help you in there, but we just thought...” Delly starts.

 

“Thank you, Peeta, Delly,” Madge interrupts her gently. There’s only so many times that a girl can stand to hear about her impending death. 

 

The three blondes sit and talk quietly as Madge picks at the ornately decorated cookies. Peeta and Delly promise to take care of her parents, to keep an eye on her sickly mother and make sure that her dad doesn’t work himself into an early grave. They tells her some Town gossip she’s missed out on in her relative social isolation. She’s grateful for Delly and Peeta. The cookies are beautiful and delicious, like everything he bakes. He’s right, they’re not going to help her win in the arena. But sitting with her two childhood friends, eating these cookies, is a much better send off to her death than quietly crying alone. 

 

* * *

Madge didn’t see Gale again until they were on the train. He was brooding less than usual, his face was softer and less taut now that the cameras were gone. They sat in silence in the elaborately decorated parlor compartment as Effie directed the moving of her and Haymitch’s luggage to their rooms. Madge was usually content to sit in silence, but something about Gale and the way he was glaring at the train doors unnerved her.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

 

He wasn’t looking at her, but his eyebrows shot up, indicating he’d heard her. He looked at her for the first time since they’d been on stage. He was still frowning, although he didn’t look as hostile as that morning when he’d sold her berries. It felt like a year ago. 

 

“What for?” he said, his voice strained. “You--Madge, you didn’t cause this.” 

 

“I know that, I just wanted...” Madge trailed off and she realised that she wasn’t actually sure what she wanted. She and Gale weren’t friends, they barely spoke. But they were about to board a train to almost certain death, in her case. It’d be nice to not hate each other. 

 

“I know we’re not friends or anything like that. But I’m not going to spend this entire time hating you.” Gale seemed to have read her thoughts.  

 

Madge nodded in response. Gale gave her a small smile and snorted a bit.

 

“Good. We’re both District 12, we should support each other while we can,” he said confidently and casually, as if they were at her back door haggling over the price of game. “Besides, your dad said...” he stopped suddenly. Madge’s eyebrows perked up.

 

“Wait, did my dad come to see you before we left?” she asked, incredulous that her dad would apparently try to persuade another tribute to throw the Games for her sake. Gale looked surprised at her outburst. “What did he say to you?” she demanded. 

 

Gale looked like he was doing some quick thinking, but before he could explain away his slip up, Effie flounced back into the room with Haymitch stumbling behind her. He was somehow even more disheveled and intoxicated now than he was an hour or two ago when he yanked Madge and Gale out of the crowded square, and propelled them off to almost certain death in the Quarter Quell. He collapsed on the couch opposite of the chairs that Madge and Gale were sitting in, seemingly unaware of their presence. 

 

Effie sat in a chair next to Haymitch, still smiling brightly like she didn't notice the belligerently drunk man sprawled on the couch next to her. 

 

“Isn’t this wonderful?” she asked. Madge just stared at her blankly. 

 

“What?” asked Gale cautiously. 

 

“You’ve both been handpicked by a victor to participate in the Quarter Quell!” There was a slight air of indignity and condensation in her voice, as if she couldn’t believe her tributes weren’t nearly excited as her. “Now that all of the excitement from  _ your _ Reaping has worn off, I suppose we’d better get a look at the rest of your competition?” she smiled and grabbed the remote on the coffee table. 

 

The large, flat television screen on the wall flickered to life and a stage, not so different from the one in District 12, appeared. The actual Reapings in Districts 1 and 2 were quite different, though. With quite a few victors and proud traditions of volunteering, there are quite a few eager candidates for tributes. In the end District 1 sends two ferocious looking 19 year olds and District 2 sends a couple of careers who would age out of the Reaping next year. 

 

The rest of the Districts were a confusing mismatch of elderly men and women who climb the stage at peace with their fate, glad to spare the death of another child, young people who seem strong and skilled enough to have a fighting chance, and then the tributes from Districts 3, 4, and 11. An older victor named Beetee led a woman in her mid forties from the crowd in District 3. She was neither young enough to win the heart of the Capitol, nor old enough to be at peace with her impending death. The man who eventually joined her on stage had the same dark hair and eyes as her, but looked to be near 30. There seemed to be some confusion over the male tribute, just like the confusion in District 4 as Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, and Mags Skiff attempted to find their female tribute. The other three living victors from District 4 and the male tribute, a young man with curly brown hair and tanned skin, stood on stage waiting until eventually a girl who can’t be any older than Madge, walks from the crowd with the three victors. 

 

District 11 is the strangest by far. Seeder, a female victor in her 60s with dark skin, golden brown eyes, and short gray hair, walks into the crowd and returns with a pair of 20 year olds who bravely ascend the stage. Apparently they’re her niece and godson, a strange and upsetting choice in an outlying District. The other two living victors stand motionless on stage behind her, not bothering to contest her choice. Thresh, the most recent victor, looks as broken as her did six months ago when Madge met him on his Victory Tour. The death of his district partner, a twelve year old girl, at the hands of the career pack had broken him. It had spurred him into a violent rage that reverberated through District 12 and, if the memos Madge had glimpsed on her dad’s desk were truthful, other Districts like 11 and 8. 

 

She hadn’t told anyone that Districts 8 and 11 were on lock down until the 74th Hunger Games were over. Honestly, she didn’t have anyone to tell. Nothing much had happened in 12 in the aftermath of the girl’s death, just a few scuffles with Peacekeepers and the Justice Building was ransacked by a group of Seam kids. Her father had talked Cray out of any serious actions against the kids, but a man had been killed during a confrontation with a Peacekeeper. It was enough to stop the flames of rebellion that threatened to consume the District, enough to frighten the general population into uneasy submission.

 

Haymitch groaned when the square in District 12 appeared on the screen. It’s nice to know that, on some level, Haymitch understood the shame and humiliation he’s brought their District. In some ways it would probably be better to just have no victor at all. 

 

Caesar Flickerman was making a comment about his drinking, when Haymitch grabbed the remote and turned the television off.

 

Effie was aghast. 

 

“Haymitch, they hadn’t even commented on my outfit! And we don’t know what they think of Gale and Madge,” she cried.

 

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Haymitch muttered. He looked over Madge and sighed. “You’re dead meat anyways, girlie. Just like all those other kids.”

 

Madge didn’t know what to say, but she didn’t need to respond. Gale leapt to his feet in a rage.

 

“Then why the fuck did you pick us?” he shouted. 

 

The compartment was deadly silent. Effie looked shocked that a tribute would speak to Haymitch that way, although Madge suspected that he was not the first to explode on District 12’s useless mentor. 

 

“See, you... You’ve got it. You can do this,” Haymitch said, pointing at Gale and with the faintest trace of a smile on his face. 

 

This didn’t appease Gale. 

 

“Well that’s nice! Just stack the Games up for some stupid Seam miner who didn’t even need to worry about being Reaped anymore!” He laughed bitterly. “Too bad those careers will tear both of us apart in minutes.”

 

Haymitch met Gale’s hostile gaze.

 

“You can do this.” He repeated.

 

“If you don’t help her, too, then I don’t think I can,” Gale replied, crossing his long arms across his chest.

 

“Listen, we don’t even know how many sponsors you’ll get yet!” Effie chimed in, clearly trying to diffuse the situation. “There should be plenty to go around! Madge is so beautiful and you are handsome, too! I just know you’ll do well in the Capitol!” she looked around brightly, hoping that someone would be excited by her assessment. 

 

Haymitch glared at Effie. Gale glared at Haymitch. Madge tried to shrink into the couch.

 

Gale looked down at Madge and offered her his hand. She took it and let him pull her to her feet.

 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said to her.

 

“And go where?” laughed Haymitch.

 

Gale just led Madge from the room without another word.

 

As the compartment door closed behind them, Effie reminded Haymitch that they would be back in an hour or so for dinner. 

 

* * *

As they walked down the hallway, Madge looked out the windows at the countryside flying past them. The thick, green forests and rugged mountains of District 12 were becoming flatter and browner, the forrests sparser. She wondered what the closest District was now. They’d never had many maps in school, which she suspected was intentional. It was another way that the Capitol controlled the populace; limiting their information.

 

“Don’t listen to him, Undersee,” Gale said roughly, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

 

“What?”

 

Gale glared at her, clearly annoyed that she’d missed whatever he’s said.

 

“Don’t listen to Abernathy, you’ll do fine in there,” he repeated.

 

Madge nearly laughed. “Gale, you can’t be serious. I have no practical skills that will help me in the arena. I’m not a hunter or a fighter or a survivor like you.”

 

“Don’t say that! You’ll have time to learn, I’ll teach you!” he said, gripping her hand tighter. 

 

“Is this because of my father?” she accused. Gale looked taken aback, which she interpreted as a yes. “Because he doesn’t have the authority to tell you to throw the Games for me, Gale. He’s not your Mayor anymore and I don’t think there’s a worse punishment than this.” 

 

“I’m not just doing this for you dad, Undersee. He didn’t ask me to throw the Games or anything like that!” Madge was not sure she believed him, but she let him continue. “I just think you deserve a fighting chance. You’re talented; you have skills that will help you.”

 

“Like what? Reading? Piano? Gardening?” she said. “I don’t think the Capitol is going to tune in to see me read a book. And my piano playing certainly won’t help me against the career pack.”

 

“You never know, they could have a piano in the arena,” he joked. She smirked a little bit, despite herself.

 

Gale sighed again. “I want to help you, ok? I’m not throwing the Games, i just don't want to see you...” he stumbled over his next thought, but Madge knew what he was going to say. 

 

“Look just let me help you, please,” he finished, squeezing her hand.

 

Madge sighed and nodded. “Fine, but please don’t let me drag you down.”

 

Gale looked relieved. “Good. I’ll teach you everything I can,” he promised. Madge nodded again.

 

There were two doors in front of them. One had a small sign that said “Tribute Undersee” on it and the other said “Tribute Hawthorne”. She stopped at her door.

 

“I’ll see you at dinner,” she said and she pushed her door open. She needed to be alone, to process everything that kept happening today.

 

Gale nodded and finally let go of her hand as he made his way to his own room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all of the feedback! I am very excited to continue the story, although I might not make a ton of progress since it's almost hiking season and I've decided to go back to school next fall. That being said, I've made some good progress with future chapters and hope that I can maintain some sort of regularity (maybe monthly?). 
> 
> Again, I welcome feedback (although I'm doing this for fun, not an pulitzer prize :))


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